Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Melee Preliminary Rounds
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Third POV

The clash of steel and the shouts of men filled the fenced field as the ten combatants engaged in the chaotic melee. Mud flew and blades clanged in an unrestrained dance of brutality and skill.

This was no mere brawl but the preliminary round for the tourney's grand melee.

Over three hundred knights had entered, forcing the organizers to create thirty groups of a minimum of ten, each with a single objective—to emerge as one of the last two standing and move to the next round.

In the crowds, Galahad stood with Gerion, Oberyn, and Tygett, watching intently. Normally, such a free-for-all might have failed to hold their attention, but today was different.

Among the ten battling for dominance was Ser Barristan Selmy, a living legend, revered throughout the realm as one of the finest knights.

Ser Barristan Selmy, standing at 6'2" and clad in his white cloak, moved with a deadly precision that seemed almost effortless.

Despite his age, he was still at the peak of his skill, facing off against three knights with a fluidity that defied his years.

Galahad observed him closely, studying the way Barristan used his shield to parry, turning his opponents' blows to his advantage.

Every step, every motion, was controlled, economical, as he measured his foes' attacks before striking back with swift, calculated force.

Not far from him, another knight caught Galahad's eye—Ser Brynden Tully, known as the Blackfish. In the early moments of the melee, when most had charged at Ser Barristan, Ser Brynden had instead chosen to assist him.

The Blackfish's approach was markedly different from Selmy's; where Barristan's movements were refined and deliberate, Ser Brynden fought with a relentless, fierce intensity.

At 6'6" and in his early thirties, he was a formidable presence, his strikes brutal and his defenses strong.

Against two knights, he used his reach and raw strength to overpower them, his blade flashing with a punishing, almost feral intensity.

Galahad watched as Ser Barristan concluded his bout, dazing one knight with a well strike to the head before turning to the two remaining foes.

They lunged in tandem, but Selmy, ever the tactician, sidestepped and struck swiftly.

His blade found the back of one knight, who dropped, dazed. The final opponent, sensing his disadvantage, scrambled to defend, but it was futile. Ser Barristan's strikes came at him from every angle, unyielding.

Within moments, the knight was unarmed, forced to yield to Selmy's superior skill.

Meanwhile, Ser Brynden had ended his own battle in brutal fashion. One knight lay on the ground, his weapon cast aside by the Blackfish's forceful strikes.

Another knight attempted to stand his ground but fell under Brynden's relentless assault, yielding before he could be struck down further.

With the dust settled and the field cleared, Galahad turned to his companions, his eyes bright with admiration.

"That's a great fight," he said, grinning. "The technique, speed, and experience from Ser Barristan—near perfect." Watching the legendary knight was like witnessing art in motion.

Gerion nodded, a note of awe in his voice. "Right? I don't think he took a single misstep." Barristan's calculated movements, his unwavering balance—he'd made no error, showing both supreme control and deadly precision.